Charades
by youweremymuse
Summary: Melchior and Moritz walk home, angst ensues


He's there. Thank god he's there.

Moritz broke into a run when he saw his best friend sitting on the wall, then seconds guesssed himself and slowed to a casual walk.

Melchior jumped down and offered him half an apple, then broke it in half with his hands. When asked how he did it, Melchior said he'll show him later.

Later.

Moritz began talking at the speed of light with stutters and voice cracks as theywalked away from the brick school house, away from Greek and mathematics and Literature and into the cold German woods.

"I knew it, Melchi. God I knew it like the back of my hand."

Melchior was only half listening. He knew his friend needed to let it out more than he needed any comment.

"I'd repeated those lines over and over, yet somehow when Brockenbohn looked at me they all disappeared and all I could think was..."

"what?" Melchior stopped chewing, only half aware of what his friend just said.

"Nothing," Moritz replied quickly, his brow furrowing into deep valleys.

'Don't worry so much Moritz, you'll look 75 by the time your 20." He had meant to ease his friends mind, to change the subject. When it came out it seemed dismissive. How had Melchior become the one to comfort and protect, being a year younger?

They walked in silence the whole way back, their toes numb and noses red. Melchior couldn't tell if that sniffle was from the cold or whatever storm was raging inside Moritz's head, but he forced himself not to look. Forced himself not to pull his friend into a strong hug, to offer him his shoulder. He didn't. He trudged along the frozen path with his friend beside him and far away. Because he didn't want to shame him. He mentally cursed the entire idea of shame, that there was something wrong with needing assurance from the ones closest to you. He made a mental hypothesis that shame was man made, crafted by parents and teachers to force you to succeed.

"Let's go to my house. My mother will make some hot coffee and I can write both Latin papers" Melchior offered. Seeing the reluctance in Moritz's eyes, he added, "I'll sprinkle a couple of errors here and there to make it believable. It won't take me an hour."

Moritz paused to pull up his fallen socks, then nodded in consent. The two boys entered the Gabor home and shrugged off their heavy coats, Moritz carefully hung his on the rack as Melchior dropped it unceremoniously on the ground.

Moritz was secretly grateful Melchior had invited him in. He would have asked to come anyway, but it was wonderful to have reassurance that his friend still cared. He had heard all the whispering, all the not-so-quiet whispering, about his relationship with Melchior. The "why would the smartest boy in class waste his time around that dunce," and the "I don't see why he stoops to his level" or Moritz's favorite "He doesn't deserve a friend like that." He could stand them all if they didn't reflect his mind, the questions he asks himself every single day. Lately he'd felt as if he was hanging off a cliff, hanging onto Melchior's ankles for dear life, and instead f offering a hand, Melchior was just standing there, putting up with him. Because there was no reason they were friends. No reason at all. Moritz couldn't understand it himself. And he was dreading the day that Melchior would wake up and realize there was not reason, and shut him out.

So they sat, Melchior scribbling madly as Moritz tried desperately to absorb something, a_nything,_ from Homer, pausing to ask Melchior what some of the bigger words meant. Moritz declined coffee, feeling too jumpy anyway. Melchior stole glances at the face under the messy hair every few minutes, to see if he was still there. He even tried cracking a few jokes, making fun of the professors. Moritz half smiled and blew air out of his nose. Not a laugh, but to Melchior, worth the world.

Day turned to dusk and Mortiz got up to leave, thanking Frau Gabor for the coffee sitting untouched on the table. He struggled to get his coat on, putting his are through the wrong sleeve twice.

"goodbye Melchi."

Goodbye Moritz. Don't forget your paper" Melchior gestured to the essay waiting to be left behind without looking up. Moritz grinned sheepishly then walked back over to where his best friend sat.

He didn't think it through. He grabbed his friend and hugged him tightly t him in a bne crushing embrace, trying to squeeze all the sadness out, Moritz froze up for a second, then returned the hug. Melchior felt hot tears on his sleeve.

"you can stay the night if you want," Melchior Offered.

Moritz paused, then nodded.


End file.
